


After the End

by mandydarlings



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Healing, Romance, growing whole, happyish ever after, my tragic headcannons, post-TV show, stark sister feels, tv headcannons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 18:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12138930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandydarlings/pseuds/mandydarlings
Summary: After the war of endless night Arya Stark becomes master of whispers for the heir of the Iron Throne, Lyanna Targaryen, while she longs for the lord of Storm's End.





	After the End

**Author's Note:**

> My tragic headcannon is that Jon and Daenerys will die in the final battle and I was theorizing what would happen to Arya and Sansa after and then this happened.

_Valar morghulis._

All men must die and Jon Snow does. It’s the battle for all things when he falls and Arya Stark is far away to strike the man with her needle. He dies and she isn’t there to save him. He dies on a battlefield with his men as they win the war of endless night.

Jon’s bones are given to the Starks to place in the crypt. He belongs there with his mother and father. Daenerys buried with the body of Drogon in a crypt of Dragonglass as the storm blew out to sea. A new song travels through the realm a song of ice and fire, a song of dragons and wolves, and of love and loss.

After the end there is a babe in her arms and she sees Jon’s eyes. The stark eyes with a mass of white hair atop the tiny girl’s head. She may not have saved Jon but she will save this tiny thing.

*

Gendry is given his lordship and the Stormlands in a decree from Tyrion Lannister, the king Regent. They will both guard Lyanna Targaryen until their deaths.

The little child takes to Sansa first, because _of course she does_. Arya has never been a nurturer and never will be. Sansa smiles at her and hands her the babe. Never once asking if this is what she would want.

Sansa knows it isn’t and for the second time in all her years the two of them are family. They are different but both have their failures branded into their skin, into their souls. This world has made survivors of them both. Sansa makes no demands in regards to her marrying a lord, or bearing any children. Those flights of fancy long behind her instead she lets Arya learn how to be. The pieces of Arya Stark molding  and changing like the forging of a sword.

*

Gendry sees her, not that she is looking as she holds the babe in her arms. Little Lyanna Targaryen baring the name of the woman who died, the woman Arya looks like. The woman worth splitting a realm over. Arya Horseface, and she wonders what Lyanna looked like. She loves her and hates her in equal measure. Lyanna who ran, Lyanna who was wild, Lyanna who they all bore the consequences.  

Lyanna Targaryen who will rule with the cost of their sins.

*

Arya becomes master of whispers once Varys disappears. 

Varys told her stories as his last hours came and she listened. They talked of dragons and better things and he died in a land he never came from. He gave her his spiders and then he left quietly in the night. She made sure it was in his sleep.

Arya is not a person she is a sword and her knife has been pointed at his throat for years.

*

Lyanna is five when she comes to Arya and asks her about lessons.

Arya smirks and tells her, “when you are older I’ll show you.”

*

Lyanna learns to water dance with a startling ease.

*

Gendry comes to court that year requesting a lady for his lonely castle. Lyanna looks at her like she is expecting Arya to say something. Arya was never meant to be a lady as Tyrion decrees they will find a good match that will aid the crown.

The bullheaded man corners the master of whispers and asks what she has heard. “There are some that wish you to be King.” She says plainly, her hand on the dagger she sliced Littlefinger’s throat with, a threat and a promise.

“I do not wish that.” Gendry has never been a good liar and she knows what he says to be true. “But…” he starts hesitantly. “I don’t need a lady _lady_.” He rambles and she doesn’t quite understand what he is getting at.

“What?” She says confused as Lyanna opens the door and comes in for her lessons. “My queen,” she says to the little girl, “what do we say to the god of death?”

“Not today,” Lyanna Targaryen beams. She is almost ten but she is the brightest thing in Arya’s sky. Jon’s eyes watch her as she trains her, they watch her as Gendry leans back and cheers the both of them on. For the third time since she hugged Sansa in a crypt years ago and held Jon when he came back Winterfell… she feels at home.

*

Gendry stays at court for a little while. He makes her laugh and hangs in her sphere. Arya hears the rumors, her little spiders scuttling on the walls and forgotten places.

He wants a match with a Stark girl.

The crown will marry Sansa to Gendry she figures. Her sister was always meant to be a Lady. It suits her.

She hurts. She doesn’t know why. It has been too long that she has felt anything for anyone that wasn’t family.

*

Sansa is summoned to court and Lyanna practices her courtesies just as she was taught. They are perfect and precise just like Sansa taught her. Lyanna is a beautiful mix of both of their lessons but she is her parents daughter. Lyanna even at the age of eleven commands a room that even the Lady Mormont is in awe of. She is a fierce Dragon and an honorable wolf.

Taking her sister aside she tells her about what she is heard in hushed whispers about the lord of the Stormlands. Sansa smiles as if this was everything she ever wanted, and Arya doesn’t know why it hurts so much.

*

The songs say that the dragon Rhaegal waited until Lyanna came of age to return to King’s Landing. The last dragon in the world entwined with the last dragon’s daughter. It was fitting that the dragon named for her grandfather would remain at Lyanna’s side.

There are two large direwolves that live near King’s landing. Nymeria is said to have her pack roaming the woods near the castle. Ghost is ever present at Lyanna’s side. A quiet beast at the young girl’s feet.

*

Lyanna corners Arya in her quarters. “Aryaaaaaa,” the young girl begs with youthful enthusiasm. “I was thinking of holding a tourney to celebrate!” She is usually a serious thing, frugal in the crowns expenses.

“What are we celebrating, your grace?” She asks the girl before her. Jon’s eyes staring back. 

“The end of the great game,” Lyanna says softly. The weight of what it has cost their family hanging between them. “We bring all the kingdoms together for a competition, singing, and dancing. To remember.”

“Your father used to hate feasts.” Arya sits down in a chair.

“Tell me about him,” Lyanna commands.

“Jon,” The name feels strange on her tongue she hasn’t talked about him in a while. Sometimes Arya feels that if she does he will fade away to memory just like her father. “He was kind, and gentle. He had Needle made for me.” She draws her tiny sword that no longer fit her hand out of its sheath and hands it to her niece. “I think he would like you to have it. It will be your own needle.”

Lyanna looks up at her like Arya Stark is the world to her. “Thank you,” She places the sword down and jumps into her arms like she had done years ago. She wraps her arms around the tiny queen and prays to the God of Death to keep her safe.

*

There are so many whispers there in the dark when she is alone. She wears different faces as she wanders the halls, the capital, or even other rooms.  She is the hidden wolf who fights with teeth barred for her pack.

She even slips into Gendry’s room as a maid for reasons even she doesn’t know. He is bathing when she enters and Gendry stutters and hides. “Excuse me my lord,” She says under the guise of another girl. One who hides her face from his nakedness. She waits to see if he approaches her like the rumors and whispers had said of his father.

Instead he just hides further in the water. “Please leave,” he mutters to the bubbles.

Arya escapes outside of the room and she stifles a giggle.

*

It was an amusing idea until Arya has to face Gendry the next day and she can’t quite look him in the eye. He is beet red when he tells her like it matters that a maid just walked in on him.

“I will make sure to report to the head of-“ Arya begins.

“NO!” He says mortified hiding his face further into his hands as she passes him some wine.

*

Lyanna is whispering to Sansa from across the table during the feast. Arya scowls as they keep looking over at Gendry sitting next to her. No doubt planning his nuptials as refills her wine. Gendry laughs with Yara Greyjoy about some battle or conquests. Arya doesn’t listen she likes the both of them enough. Yara definitely more than others.

Her attention is brought back from her thoughts when she feels a hand on her knee. Arya looks down at her leg and see’s Gendry’s hand lightly placed there, rubbing circles with his thumb absent mindedly.

Arya has half a mind to throw him off her and berate him in front of all the kingdom. Yet, instead she finds herself twining her fingers in his. Their hands clasped out of sight. Seven hells can take them all. Gendry belonged to her. She looks at the tiny Queen and Lady Sansa Stark laughing while occasionally glancing over.

To seven hells with them indeed.

*

Gendry insists on taking part in the tourney. He nervously hunts down Arya before the match. “May I have my lady’s favor?” He asks.

“I am not a lady, stupid.” Arya storms away dramatically as he looks on defeated.

Besides, she has already left a tiny wolf necklace in his tent so he can wear it over his heart for protection.

*

The master of whispers stands behind Queen Lyanna Targaryen as the tourney begins. Gendry looks gallant in his armor as he mounts his steed against a Lord Harry from the Vale. Gendry knocks the man off with ease of his tilt as Lyanna and Sansa stand to cheer.

Her hands weren’t being nervously wringed behind her back. She never worried for a second that Gendry would lose.

Arya can hear several of the ladies fawning over the Lord of Storm’s End. _Handsome_ they say. _Eligible_ is whispered amongst the prying vipers.

*

“Who do you think Lord Baratheon should marry?” Lyanna says swing knocking Arya’s concentration. She parries her nieces cut easy enough.

“Thought you and Sansa were deciding.” Arya mutters impassively moving away from the next jab from Lyanna.

“You know him best,” Lyanna gives her the same tone in return. Her niece is too clever for her own good.

She thinks about their hands together and the wolf head hidden under his armor. Gendry is a lord now, and he will need a lady to further his line. That is why he is here she reminds herself, and Arya Stark is not a lady.

“You should marry him to an armory then,” Arya smirks, “that man has always loved his swords.”

 

Arya moves out of the way and Lyanna almost trips on her own feet. She places the wooden practice sword against the small girl’s neck and waits patiently as her niece turns and gives her a wolf’s grin.

“Not today,” Lyanna growls playfully.

*

Sometimes the whispers and rumors get too much. Rumors of an uprising in the west forming around the new Lord Baratheon, words of conquest from the south, but Arya knows where the loyalties lie. The union of Jon and Daenerys made sure of that. The little girl who is slowly becoming a woman is everything that their realm could hope for.

The rumors about Lord Baratheon’s nuptials begin to bother her. There are so many different candidates to chose from, an  she is sure they will go with Sansa. Sansa who is unmarried and longs for children of her own. The consolidation of power alone would be worth it. Together they would be a strong hammer against anyone that would go against the Queen.

It would make sense. She thinks and hates politics.

*

“Why the long face?” Gendry asks as he finds her by the Weirwood tree as Arya sharpens her sword.

“Nothing, my lord.” She says to the metal she refines.

Gendry stomps his way to her and sits beside her listening to the sound of the trees. He puts his large hand on hers as she stops sharpening it and looks at him. “Oathkeeper, it’s called. It was forged from Ice, my father’s sword. Brienne of Tarth gave it to me.” She explains avoiding his eyes.

“May I?” He takes the sword and looks at it. “Has a nice feel to it. How’s the swing?”

“A bit of an adjustment,” Arya watches his hands as holds the blade with reverence as if he is holding a fragile piece of art instead of a weapon. “What are you doing here, stupid?”

The nickname brings a smile to his face, and Arya knows she likes the look of it. “Needed to escape court,” he offers.

“Avoiding all talk of your nuptials then?” Arya sighs as she looks at the bastard boy turned lord. He is all muscles and nerves as he looks at his feet unable to meet her gaze. “My little spiders tell me many things.”“I-“ Gendry begins gathering his courage as he takes her hand holding the flint in his. “Would… you be my lady?” He asks looking at her earnestly and so devoted it almost shocks her.

“No, you oaf,” Arya retorts as Gendry looks at the ground rejected. She places the sword next to her as Gendry moves to leave. She grabs his hand and forces him to look at her. “I can’t be your lady. I’m not a lady.” She explains giving him a shrug, “but-“

The way he looks at her frightens and excites her at the same time. “But to be a Lord they told me I had to marry a lady.” He grumbles, “and I don’t want a lady. I just want you.”

Arya places her small hands on his face and leans forward her mouth meeting his. It feels awkward at first, she has never kissed anyone before. Innocence and curiosity quickly turn to burning heat as he draws her small body to his. She pulls away her face no doubt red, tickled from his beard. “I can’t be a lady, Gendry.” She says again. Firmly, “I cannot leave Lyanna.”

“I know,” he looks down at the ground. “I’m just a stupid bastard.” His frustration reverberating through his core as the one thing he wants remains steadfast out of his reach.

“You aren’t listening,” Arya says smugly, “I cannot be your lady, but we can be family.” She covers her hand in his and he finally gets it. “You are _mine_.”

“Okay,” He says swiftly.

“Okay,” She meets him halfway.

*

She has never been a lady. Arya is the master of whispers. A faceless man. A daughter of the north. A wolf. She has never been a lady as she sneaks into Gendry’s room in the middle of the night.

Another thing she has never done in the proper order as she takes direction and shoves the lord of the Stormlands onto the bed. She steals him as a wildling would as they rock together in the night.

*

“What is that on your neck?” Sansa asks scandalized while the two Stark sisters break bread together. Sansa moves faster than Arya is ready for as she moves her younger sister’s collar revealing the purple mark from a bull headed man.

Sansa leans back in her chair looking over her sister with a knowing smirk.

Sometimes Arya really hates Sansa.

*

Arya begins spending more time with Gendry and the thought  apparently sends her niece into a tizzy. If she didn’t know better her niece was more into the idea of the two of them than anything.

“Lord Baratheon told me how you two met,” Lyanna regaled the two of them during a feast. The two of them turn beet red as Lyanna goes on and on in detail to anyone who would listen using Gendry’s own words against him.

“I am going to kill you,” She whispers under her breath as they are held hostage in conversation by an eleven year old.

*

Gendry comes to her room more often than not. “I need to return to the Stormlands. Will you come with me as my Lady?” He asks her again and again sometimes.

“Perhaps,” she evades the question as she loves this little slice of them they have. She is the master of whispers and she needs to protect the Queen.

*

To Sansa’s delight Arya corners her in a room. “I need your help,” Arya says beet red.

“Anything,” Sansa replies and Arya knows it’s true. Ever since they played the lying game and stood together they have had each other’s back. Sansa would pick up a sword or a quill and slay their enemies for her sister. She would go to war for Arya with her cunning words.

“Gendry.” She hisses his name. “I’m not a lady, and he needs a lady for his castle.”

“Arya, you are weird and strange,” She brushes her sister’s mussed hair out of her eyes. “You will always just be you.”

“But being a lady… it requires being a wife and just that.” She says afraid.

“Arya, you have never been or will be just that.” Sansa says firmly, “you don’t have to stop being the master of whispers or a lady of his castle.”

“What about you? I thought they were going to pair you with him.” Arya asked sipping wine.

“I would have to be an idiot,” Sansa smiled, “anyone with eyes can see the way he feels about you.”

“What about you? Don’t you need a lord?” She asks her sister.

“I have had my fill of Lords,” the words sound like the bitter cold winds. The whispers Arya hears of a secret lover here and there for Sansa Stark. Arya always makes sure those secrets end. “I am a wolf, like my brothers and my sister, and we chose our own ways.”

*

Arya steals Gendry in the middle of the night dragging him out to the weirwood tree as a Septon waits. “I will not be a lady but…”

“I am yours.” Gendry says watching her eyes as they approach the tree and a future. “From this day, until the end of my days.”

*

Lyanna Targaryen is very distraught when she hears her favorite aunt married her favorite lord and _didn’t invite her._

*

“What about children?” She worries against his furs as Gendry holds her closer. “To be a dutiful wife I would need to produce an heir.”

Gendry tickles her instead and she laughs and her cold heart feels a little more open. “You? Dutiful?” He jokes.

*

There is a coin in her pocket she carries with her everywhere. She holds it in her hands, in the candle light that first night in the Stormlands. Gendry feels like home but the entire place is off. She is a wild wolf in unfamiliar territory, but she finds him in the night. His skin slick against hers as they find each other over and over again.

*

_Valar doharis_

All men must serve. And serve she does.

*

Arya hates being pregnant almost as much as she hates most things. She feels awkward and bloated. Gendry hates her being pregnant too. Her temper is worse and her aim with random objects is better.

 

There are now rumors of an angry wolf pack hunting in the Stormlands.

*

Jon comes screaming in the night black of hair with the Stark eyes. Outside of Arya’s chambers she can hear the wolves howling for their kin.

*

Arya Stark and the Baratheons return to court after a year in the Stormlands. The master of whispers arrives in her leather breeches and tunic that Sansa had made her. Lyanna, a girl of 13 now, runs straight into her aunt’s arms and looks at her nephew. “He looks terribly serious.” Lyanna says playfully.

“He looks like your father,” She smiles as she realizes Lyanna is almost a woman and some day the winds of winter will come again.

Arya had heard the whispers about Dragon’s Bay falling back to the slavers and how the young Queen wants to rain fire upon those who touch her mother’s legacy with filthy hands.

Tyrion gives her a weighted look and she knows where her duty will bring her.

*

Arya finds her sister in the Godswood staring at the Weirwood tree. Usually silent footed she walks next to her sister as they stare at the tree. Sansa looks quietly at the tiny babe in Arya’s arms. “May I hold him?”

“Of course,” Arya hands Sansa baby Jon and she knows what her sister sees in her face. The raw grief of a lost family member still an ache within them both. “If anything happens to me, Sansa, promise me to protect him.”

“Always,” Sansa says without hesitation looking at her younger sister.  “You heard what Lyanna wants to do?”

“Yes.” Arya breathes.

The two Stark wolves look over Blackwater Bay as a chill fills the air. It isn’t a real cold, a winter cold, but they are Starks and they have their words. Winter is coming.

“When the cold wind blows the lone wolf dies,” Sansa begins.

Arya finishes as Jon begins crying with the howling of the wolves outside the walls, “but the pack survives.”


End file.
